


When Things Go Wrong, I Seem To Be Bad(ass)

by PaperCraneCastles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Jedi: Fallen Order (Video Game)
Genre: Cal Kestis Needs a Hug, Cal picks fights he really should not, Lightsaber Duels, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27963179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperCraneCastles/pseuds/PaperCraneCastles
Summary: Three times Cal Kestis clashes with Darth Vader.Or, Cal being generally (but mostly accidentally) badass, evading the Inquisitorius and frustrating the heck out of one (1) Very Angry Sith Lord by managing to escape from him. Frequently.1. In hindsight, going to Jedha was kind of a stupid idea.2. Cal gets into the most one-sided bar fight of his life on Nar Shaddaa.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 83





	1. Jedha

**Author's Note:**

> Consider this an exercise in writing fight scenes, which are Very High on the list of Things Wren Finds Very Hard. This is basically just a small collection of short little literary doodles that didn't fit into any of my longer fics I'm working on! I whinged on tumblr a few months back that I found the Vader and Cal content to be very sparse, and some enterprising commentator told me to write some myself. So...this is me doing exactly that! :)
> 
> Title pinched from the song 'Don't let me be Misunderstood' by Santa Esmeralda from the Kill Bill soundtrack, which was on in the background when I was writing the actual fight scene. Because clearly I take myself and my writing very seriously. Hope you enjoy!

The smell of hot spiced wine permeated the chilly air as Cal wandered the sprawling streets of Jedha City, and it's citrus-cinnamon aroma was incredibly tempting. The permanent frost that coated the moon's rocky surface might be held at bay by the warm hum of the city's million or so inhabitants, but it was still chilly enough for Cal to be able to see his breath misting in front of his face.

Perhaps he would treat himself to some once he was done exploring. There was something very comforting about walking through a busy city where no-one looked twice at one face surrounded by a hundred more. Cal hadn't gone without a hooded cloak for a long time, his distinctive red hair and visibly scarred face already painfully prevalent on the holonet. Ever since he escaped Nur with the holocron, leaving chaos and a rather impressive Imperial body count behind him, he'd been near to the top of the list of the Empire's Most Wanted fugitives.

Cere had recently declared, with a touch of bewildered exasperation, that he was far too invested in making it to the top of said list. Cal had protested amid sniggers from Merrin and accompanying amused squeaks from Beedee – he wasn't trying to attract attention at all! It just sort of seemed to happen wherever he went. 

In the six months since he had watched Trilla die and subsequently slipped through Darth Vader's fingers, the remaining Inquisitors had been hunting him with a vicious ferocity. He'd gotten to know one or two better than others, narrowly avoiding capture on half a dozen planets, but so far, neither the Fifth Brother or the Seventh Sister had managed to best him, much to their frustration and rage. Cal remained mildly surprised by his own increasing capability – his experiences on Kashyyyk, Zeffo and Ilum had hardened him to fierce skirmishes with Imperials, and surviving undead witches and Nightbrothers on Dathomir had braced him for anything the two Inquisitors could think to throw at him. 

Maybe Merrin was right to call him a survivor.

Pushing a hand through his hair, he picked up his pace. He wasn't here to drink spiced wine and dawdle – he was investigating the report of Imperial mining camps. The only thing worth mining on Jedha was the kyber crystal underneath the planet's surface. If the rumours were true, the excavation would mirror what he had seen on Ilum, and whatever the Emperor wanted with kyber crystals, Cal was willing to bet it wasn't good. Beedee whistled on his shoulder, and he hummed. “Yeah, buddy, you're right. There aren't many troopers here at all. If we're gonna find anything, I don't think it's gonna be in the city.” He agreed. “Think we can find somewhere higher?”

His comm crackled before the little droid could reply. “Cal.” Merrin's low voice was sharp with urgency. “An Imperial star destroyer just came out of hyperspace. There are a dozen fighters already heading for the city. I think they know you're here.”

Cal groaned. “I guess we should have expected that.” He told Beedee. “Jedha was a bit of a stupid place to come...alright. I'm coming back.” He promised the Nightsister, casting a last mournful look around. This whole place hummed gently with the Force, light and familiar and warm. He'd felt so at home here amongst the ancestral temples and relics of his brutally ravaged people. Jedha was proof that at least in some small way, his culture was still here, every surface saturated and bright within the Force. He let his fingers drift over the foot of a small, nondescript monument of a thousand year old Jedi, and pulled a hundred little slivers of warm memory from it's weathered stone. Regretfully, after a moment he pulled away and flicked up his hood. “Alright, buddy. Let's get back to the others and get out of here. We'll try again another time...” 

His retreat through the City and into the sprawling outskirts was much quicker than his exploratory meander into it, and Beedee kept his route as short as possible, peeping instructions from Cal's shoulder. There was something very foreboding about the sudden dearth of other people as the sound of approaching TIE fighters replaced the buzzing chatter.

Ducking into a quieter alley, just a few streets from the Mantis' carefully concealed landing spot, Cal felt the Force freeze around him, the oil-slick presence of the Dark Side rolling over all of his senses at once. Nausea welled up in his stomach as he skidded to a halt, unwilling to reveal the Mantis in case she hadn't been found by their Imperial pursuers. This hateful presence had no place here in the gentle home of his ancestors. His lightsaber was in his hand before he had even turned, the insidious touch of the Dark Side creeping up his spine. He knew the signatures of his two most ardent pursuers, and this was neither Seventh Sister or Fifth Brother. 

A very narrow alley in a highly built up city with a very large wall between him and safety was not somewhere he wanted to be facing down Darth Vader. 

“Guess I'm making myself more of a nuisance than usual...” He decided out loud, sounding a lot more cocky than he felt. The silent Sith Lord standing less than twenty feet away must have been able to feel his fear. He usually relied quite heavily on the Inquisitors being distracted by trying to outdo one another to gain the upper hand in a fight, but Cal knew from very painful experience that there was no fighting Darth Vader. His chest ached, the memory of being run through with his own saber blossoming in the forefront of his mind. And as for that dizzying overhead blow the machine of a man could throw – well. Cal had no desire to experience that again.

“I will give you one more chance to surrender.” 

Sith hells, that voice was enough to make his insides twist. “Yeah...not feeling that so much.” He retorted, igniting his lightsaber, the warm yellow light throwing shadows in the crowded space.

Vader didn't even dignify his sass with a response, and despite all that metal and armour, the man was hellishly fast. Cal had barely gotten his saber up before one of those horrendous overhead blows almost took him off his feet. For one awful second Cal thought his blade might actually break under all that ferocious power, and all the breath was driven from him, his arms shaking. But somehow, his stance and his golden crystal held, though his knees and arms felt like they were made of paper. He ducked out from underneath the red lightsaber, desperate to get it away from his face, and with a flash of inspiration he ignited his second blade and forced Vader to parry, putting a much healthier bit of distance between them. He danced back, terror-fuelled adrenaline blocking out everything else around him. His world had shrunk, suddenly, narrowed to nothing but this black and towering threat. Vader gave him no leeway, and used a twist of the Force to yank him forward by the throat. Cal choked, dragged towards the crimson blade, and this time, his retaliation was less a proper parry and more a panicked flail as he separated his sabers to catch the oncoming blow in a cross block. He was driven to one knee by the sheer force of Vader's arm, and he bared his teeth in a hiss as his own sabers inched closer to his face. 

He couldn't break the stance. Instead, he rolled onto the knee on the ground and ducked under the Sith Lord's arm again, mindful of Beedee on his back, hunkered down and squeaking in distress. With a hiss of momentary vicious triumph he watched as Vader's own momentum staggered him. Unlike with Malicos, he didn't press his brief advantage. Vader and Malicos were not the same, and the only thing that was going to save him was distance. He raised his sabers again as Vader recovered, lightning fast, and turned back to him, spinning the red saber with an effortless grace that seemed disproportionate to his size and bulk.

If Cal didn't get out of this situation he was going to die.

Unbidden, he had a sudden flash of a memory of scrambling up a narrow chasm deep in the Subterranean depths of Bogano, and he saw his opening. Bracing himself, he let Vader's next blow knock him back into a tumble to give himself that precious distance, disengaging both blades of his lightsaber. He twisted to control his fall, rolling once and jumping back to his feet in one smooth move, a dodge he had perfected under the heavy hammering of dozens of purge troopers. He pulled at the Force and threw himself back towards Vader, wondering briefly whether this was insanely suicidal or pure adrenalin fuelled genius as he leapt up onto the wall, then used the momentum from the first jump to push himself onto the opposite wall, the Force lending strength to his legs as he used the narrow walls of the alley to gain height, leaping from one to the other. He felt Vader's ferocious Force grip slither around his ankle, and knew he'd run out of the momentary element of surprise. He threw out his arms and seized hold of the edge of the building, pouring all of his senses into the old stone and pulling hard at the echoes contained within. 

The Force came rushing to him in a cascade of warm whispers, the memories of the thousands of fingers that had touched that stone wall with reverence lending him the strength to break through the hold and haul himself up onto the roof, breathing a lungful of clean air and rolling onto his back. He was lying on a shrine. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but know it he did, as surely as if it had been taught by one of the Masters at the Temple. The Force was fierce here, the stones beneath his back saturated with it, and for half a second he allowed himself to sink into it, wrapping the tendrils of it's presence around him as though to fortify him against the Dark maelstrom below.

His moment of reprieve lasted less than a second. Beedee screamed at him in warning as Vader leapt up to meet him in one ridiculous jump. His landing was so solid Cal felt his bones rattle, and he was up in seconds, saber in hand, stomach curling in anticipation. Suddenly they both had a great deal more room now they were out in the open. Vader swung his own lightsaber lazily, effortlessly taunting as he stepped closer, confident that Cal would be unable to escape this time. “There is nowhere to go. You could be so much more than a pitiful remnant of a dead order...” The way he spoke was so matter of fact and pitiless, Cal almost flinched. He didn't give him time to respond this time, and before Cal could so much as blink, Vader was on him again. This time, the blows weren't quite so dizzying, the attacks quick and sharp and pointed, and Cal blocked strike after strike as Vader knocked him back towards the edge of the roof. For a moment, Cal got the strangest sense that the black beast of a man under that armour was enjoying himself, flexing that terrifying strength. He couldn't hold his stance, however, not this close to the edge, and his saber slipped. Vader's blade seared the skin of his neck, and he yelped with pain, flinching away and stumbling. Vader pressed the advantage immediately, and Cal's breath caught, a vision of death right in front of his face – 

There was a familiar roar behind him, the single best sound Cal thought he'd ever heard as the Mantis soared into the sky. Cal could have cried with relief, his arms aching, his legs shaking and his core severely depleted after just a few short minutes of throwing himself against Vader. “Cal!” Merrin called from the lowered gangplank, her silver hair whipping in the wind from the engines, torn loose from the severe knot she kept it in. Cere was right behind her, her eyes wide with fear as she shouted instructions back at Greez, who swung the Mantis around to try and get closer. A sudden burst of brilliant green light slammed into the ground between himself and Vader, and Beedee screamed, clinging to his back like a limpet. He took Merrin's offered opening and launched himself up into the air, the Force at his heels as he landed cleanly on the gangplank and took the Nightsister's outstretched hand. She pulled him in, her fierce eyes giving him a once over. “No stab wound to the stomach this time? You got better.” She decided.

“Thanks, I think. What did you do?”

“Not enough.” She replied grimly, looking down as the narrow ship spun around again to attempt a retreat.

Cold, lethal anger roared in the Force as Vader curled his hand into a fist below them, the blank, bug-like eyes of the helmet tilted up towards them. The Mantis' rear left engine began to shudder and crumple, and Cal could hear Greez shouting with alarm as half a dozen alarms went off in the cockpit. The ship screeched as she lurched to a halt, and Cal and Merrin were thrown sideways. Green magic danced at Merrin's fingertips, and this time she threw it towards the damaged engine, desperately weaving her spell and presumably trying to hold the ship intact. “Do something, Jedi!” She hissed, clinging with one arm to the hatch door as Cal staggered on the gangplank.

Whispering a quiet, apologetic prayer to whatever spirits might be resting in this sacred place, Cal lifted his fingers, reaching out through the Force to the gentle, whispering stones of the roof below them, pushing his power into their welcoming warmth and then twisting with every last shred of his core he could muster. The roof began to disintegrate at the young Jedi's command, shifting beneath Vader's feet just long enough to destabilise him and force him to release his hold. The echoes of a thousand memories seemed to rise around them, almost as though reaching back for the boy who had heard them. The world hung still and silent for the briefest moment, before the tension snapped, and a chunk of the building crumbled to dust beneath the Sith Lord's feet. Cal's vision swam with the effort, and he staggered back against Merrin. “Cere, help me!” He heard her call, before the vibrant sandstone yellow of Jedha and the brilliant red of Merrin's tunic faded to the welcoming darkness of oblivion.

When he came to again, he was lying on his back on his narrow bunk in the back of the Mantis, the hum of the ship's remaining engine rumbling beneath him, her familiar sound immediately comforting. He could hear muffled voices coming from the galley, though he couldn't make sense of the words at all. His head was pounding and every bone in his body ached like he'd been hit by a Bracca freight train, but stars above, he was alive, and definitely not in Imperial custody. Somehow, with the help of his brave, brilliant, fierce friends...he had escaped again, scraping his way out of Darth Vader's grip for a second time. His vision blurred, and he let out a shuddering breath as he let himself sink back into sleep.


	2. Nar Shaddaa

It was entirely by chance that Cal had come to be on one of the most inhospitable slums in the galaxy. Nar Shaddaa was a rabbit warren of smuggling and spice and trafficking, home to the very worst the outer rim had to offer. Controlled by the Hutts, it was something of a safe haven, and hopefully out of reach of Vader and his Inquisitors. In a lot of ways the darkness and the orange neon lit streets reminded Cal of Bracca, so there was a sense of...familiarity, at least. Beedee grumbled on his shoulder, clearly not terribly fond of their location at all. “I know buddy. Don't look too hard at anyone, alright? I know you wanna go check everything out, but we don't wanna get on the wrong side of anyone here.”

Beedee squeaked and whistled.

“What are we doing here?” He laughed. “Getting a drink, finding a bed and sleeping for a week in the nicest dingy rat hole we can find.”

A long, low beep that sounder terribly exasperated.

“No, we're not hiding. Not for long anyway.” Cal responded with a small smile. “We'll be back to making a nuisance of ourselves before long, but after Jedha, we needed to give the Imps the slip properly.” They had split up, Cal drawing the Empire's gaze away from the others and onto Mimban, where he'd fought off the unwanted attention of the Fifth Brother and escaped into the lanes hidden in the belly of a Huttese light freighter heading for Nar Shaddaa. “Besides. I don't think anyone would follow us here. We're in Hutt space again now.”

“Fwee?”

“Yes, buddy, just like Bracca. Except with less Imps. There'll be Scrappers here I can get help from if I need to.” He stopped, then, frowning a little as the Force whispered quietly in his ear and the slightest feeling of unease crept over him. He drew in a long, centring breath and pushed his hood back to get a better look around him. There were dozens of people, and he rifled through the myriad presences around him, his consciousness flickering from one to the other. They all seemed harmless, as harmless as anyone on this dingy place could ever be, at least, all of them concerned with their own business. “Let's...get inside somewhere.” He decided, and Beedee agreed with a low whistle. 

He ducked into the least dodgy looking place he could see along the neon lit strip – it was some sort of cantina or nightclub, loud music ringing in his ears. People pressed in on him, and immediately he threw up his shields, mentally flinching from the crowd. It reminded him of some of the sorry places on Bracca he'd visited with Prauf.

He slipped between the club's patrons, looking back over his shoulder. That uneasy feeling was still there, the Force humming a quiet warning. Cal was a long way from friends, here, and the flashing orange and red neon lights made it hard to see who he was passing. He could smell alcohol and sweat as people danced, drank and laughed. The Empire had no presence here, and yet he could have sworn he caught a flicker of white plastoid out of the corner of his eye. Maybe he was just paranoid. He kept one hand on his saber as he approached the bar, leaning on it and taking the chance to look around. Beedee chirped quietly, hunched down low on his back. The music was too loud to catch what he was saying, so Cal just patted him on the head. 

There were all manner of beings in this dark-and-neon dive, a lot of them glancing his way in open curiosity. He pulled his hood down lower and turned his back on the throngs, finally catching the bartender's eye. The skinny, hard faced Mirialan raised a brow. “What are you having?” She shouted over the heavy beat of the music, and he shrugged. “Whatever's good.”

She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth to reply, but before she got the chance, the music was interrupted by a barrage of blaster fire, and chaos erupted behind Cal.

“Imperials!” Someone screeched, and he swore, spinning around to see a dozen heavy troopers pouring into the dark room. It was frightening how quickly the club emptied, the drinking and dancing pulled to a swift stop, but he barely noticed the crush of people over and above a frighteningly familiar cold ripple in the Force. He must be climbing perilously close to the top of Vader's hit list – he'd chased him half way across the galaxy

It looked like he didn't have a lot of choice. The inside of a club wasn't the strangest place he'd had to draw his lightsaber, but the flashing red and orange lights just served to make his opponent look even more menacing. The heavy troopers' black armour reflected the neon glow, but they didn't move, obediently leaving Cal to the Sith Lord, though they very definitely blocked all the exits. Which definitely gave the impression that this was personal to Vader. “Beedee, under the bar.” He growled, a little frission of panic for the tiny droid on his back. “I need to know you're safe.” He anticipated the screech of disapproval from his best friend, but thankfully he did as he was told. He immediately missed the warm little weight on his back, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about the droid while he was fighting. And quite possibly dying, he thought as he considered the ring of troopers.

“Cal Kestis. You are running out of places to hide.” Vader's low, mechanical voice broke through his anxiety.

“I dunno, it's a big galaxy. Do you come here often?” He quipped, swinging his golden blade in an arc and dropping into a defensive Soresu stance, very aware of his cramped surroundings.

Vader, as usual, didn't dignify him with a response, but that red blade was out and swinging, his rage somehow more palpable than usual. Something had rattled him, it seemed, and Cal gasped as that heavy overhead strike slammed into his saber again, and they traded blows, sparks flying as Cal was forced back. “Do you really only have one opening move?” He blurted, and he could feel Vader's spike of rage at the sheer audacity of him. He leapt to avoid another, wilder swing of Vader's blade, landing on the bar and grabbing hold of a thick metal beam connecting the bar to the ceiling. Ducking around it, he lashed out with his leg, throwing the Force behind his kick and catching Vader in the chest, strong enough to stagger him. How many hundreds of shock troopers had he kicked away from him? With nowhere to escape to, all he could do was fight, so he jumped off the bar and split his sabers, switching from Soresu to Jar Kai and hoping the two blades would be enough to hold Vader off for a second or two. He held them both aloft in a defensive stance, eyes darting towards the door.

Blood pounded in his ears, and the Force was screaming at him. He knew he was no match for a Sith Lord, but the club was dark and the flashing lights disorienting. If he was going to survive this he needed to be smart. He'd escaped Vader before, and he could do it again. Positive thinking, Kestis – his train of thought derailed as Vader came crashing down on his defences again, that saber swinging ever so close to his face as Cal deflected it with his left hand, the right palming the second saber as he ducked around and swung at the Sith Lord's unprotected back. The red blade was there to catch him in a shower of sparks. Vader didn't seem to be reaching for the Force at all yet, seemingly content to test Cal's skills with his saber.

That was a joke. Cal may have had plenty of practise wildly hacking at the Imps on Zeffo and Kashyyyk, but his formal training had ended rather abruptly, and nothing really prepared him for this heavy handed combat style. The ninth sister had been a heavy swordsman, certainly, but she had been predictable, and Trilla had been fiercely elegant and far less reliant on brute strength.

Vader was something else entirely. He had no discernable fighting form, seeming to draw elements from many of them, and moves Cal couldn't even vaguely interpret. He caught a heavy blow too low, and Vader sent him flying back against the bar. His back hit it hard and pain erupted up and down the length of his spine. His left hand caught a metal bar stool and he dropped the secondary saber, the golden light winking out as the hilt skittered across the ground. He yelped in pain, but didn't have chance to process the damage before Vader was on him, lightsaber raised high in a killing blow. Cal gasped, eyes wide as he threw up his right hand to block the blow with his remaining saber. Vader pushed hard, bending him ruthlessly back over the bar as his own blade inched closer to his neck until he could feel the spitting heat of it. He couldn't move, the Force seemed to falter at his fingertips in the face of the pain in his hand and his back -

Instead of pushing down and slicing Cal's throat with his own saber, miraculously, Vader pulled back. He used the Force to hurl the young Jedi bodily across the room. He crashed into two of the heavy troopers, and crumpled to the floor, where he was unceremoniously kicked onto his back by one of them. “Get up, worthless Jedi scum.” He spat. That was definitely not happening with any sort of speed, Cal thought, the room spinning around him, a haze of red and orange and black. He tried to get up and staggered, toppling to his knees as he back screeched in protest. Where was Beedee? He needed a stim shot, and fast. 

“This does not have to end with your death, Cal Kestis.”

What was it with Darksiders and using his full name? Trilla, Malicos, Vader, all of them, spitting it out like it was poison. Cal looked up, wrapping his arm around his stomach, winded. Vader prowled towards him, then curled a fist, lifting him off the floor almost casually by that now familiar Force grip around his throat. Cal kicked his feet uselessly, a hand flying to his throat as the other flailed wildly.

“Surrender, and I can show you another path.” 

Cal writhed, choking back a scream of frustration as his body refused to cooperate, the Force flickering around him. “I'll never join you!” He coughed, trying to keep the swell of pain and rage at bay. He saw Trilla in his mind's eye, begging to be avenged, for all of them, every Jedi who fell to Vader and his Empire's tyranny, and that swell of anger rose closer to the surface, rolling dangerously close to hatred. He had never felt the pull of the dark side so keenly as he did right now, surrounded and outnumbered, his windpipe slowly being crushed under the invisible thumb of the Sith.

“Yes, boy. Embrace it. It's part of you now. All Jedi fall, it is in your very nature to surrender to the Darkness I can feel inside you. You would be such a powerful Inquisitor, stronger than any of them...”

“No!” Cal cried, flinging out his hand. His sabers, both of them, flew out from their useless spots under the bar. Vader was forced to break his grip to dodge them as they ignited in mid air, snapping together with an audible metallic clang. Something in Cal rallied, the Force swelling up around him and smothering that black hole of his rising anger, and he dropped to a crouch, abused throat aching as he caught the saberstaff. “I won't give in to you!” He bared his teeth, green eyes wild as he launched himself forward, releasing his pain and fury into the Force as he barrelled into the Sith Lord, reigniting their duel.

He had surrendered. But not to Vader – to the Force, letting it whisper to him, where he needed to block, where he should strike. Yellow and red danced with a speed and ferocity Cal had only seen in himself once – when he'd fought Trilla back in the fortress. He pulled one blade back in when the Force insisted that he should, and sparks flew as he threw a trio of fierce double handed strikes that Vader deflected one after the other. He got the distinct sense of dark, chilling amusement from the other, and understood immediately that Vader knew he couldn't keep this up. Vader was humouring him, he realised, like a lazy lothcat toying with its trapped prey. Vader wasn't above hand to hand combat and dirty tactics, Cal realised when an armoured arm caught him across the face and sent him staggering. 

He threw out his free hand and yanked hard on the Force, pulling Vader with him to stagger him right back and stop him pressing his advantage – and then, out of nowhere, his bare fingers closed around the gloved wrist that swung wildly towards his face, instinctively trying to keep it from breaking his nose.

His body jerked, and he gave into a hoarse howl as a bright bloom of pain surged through his whole body, a violent echo exploding in his mind. There could not have been a worse moment for his psychometry to seize him in its unyielding, temperamental grip as waves of echoed pain rippled over his body. He was immediately assaulted with emotions that weren't his own, dark and black and full of feral, fiery rage amplified by a constant, unshakable pain. His limbs were on fire, his face burned, he could feel flames licking at his heels and hear shouting and screaming as he howled his hatred at his Master, spitting venomous words fuelled by the worst pain he'd ever felt in his life. Echoes of anguish and loss and horror flickered in his mind. He'd never experienced an echo like this before, something so fierce and painful. 

His knees gave out, and it was only Vader's own incomprehension of what had just happened that saved him from getting himself beheaded by the red saber. His head swam and he was suddenly terrified he was going to be violently sick, the world lurching around him as an agonising truth revealed itself behind that haze of fiery pain. His chest heaved and he choked on a lungful of ash and dust, the solid ground beneath him somehow both duracrete and blisteringly hot sand.

With the echo, hideously, came a despairingly horrifying knowledge, and really, Cal thought, he should have understood sooner. The Inquisitors had all been Jedi, once. Why not Vader, too?

He had no notion of how long the echo lasted, only that when it was over, the phantom pain creeping up his limbs was still hanging around, and he was lying on his back, chest heaving, eyes wide. Vader crouched over him, that pitiless mask blank and devoid of anything that might tell Cal what was going through the Sith Lord's mind. His lightsaber was in Vader's hand, he realised with a twist of apprehension. Vader touched the emitter to his chin, and he choked back a gasp as the hot metal seared the tended skin of his throat. “So that was psychometry.” He mused, the vocoder as blank and terrifying as his masked face. “I have never seen it, in practise. Tell me, Cal Kestis. What did you see?” Cal didn't need inflection for alarm bells to ring in his head. He was on very dangerous ground, the emitter of his own lightsaber pushing against his throat. This was it. He was going to die.

A shrill screeching sound had him flinching back in shock, as Beedee hopped up onto the bar with the droid equivalent of a battle cry. Cal stared up at him in utter shock for half a second. Then, from behind the bar poured dozens and dozens of locals, armed to the teeth with blasters and shock staves and shotguns, all of them wearing various armbands and headbands emblazoned with Hutt sigils. They mowed down the line of troopers by virtue of sheer numbers alone, and within seconds there was pandemonium as the Imperials engaged what was presumably the local Huttese militia.

Cal took the opportunity his little droid had provided. He used the Force to yank his saber from Vader's grip, rolling away as the Sith Lord was forced to leap up, saber hefted high to deflect the barrage of blaster fire. All Cal could do was cover his head as the room lit up in red, green and blue plasma bolts. Hands seized his arms and hauled him to his feet, and a weathered, scarred face peered into his own. “Kestis. Kestis, get up you sorry fool!” A familiar drawling voice snarled, shaking his shoulders as the fighting raged around them. Cal squinted up at him incredulously, eyes widening in recognition. The hooded man had a Scrapper's tattoo on his arm and a Huttese bandana wrapped around his forehead, where a few stray grey hairs escaped it. There were two blasters strapped to his belt to add to the one in his hand as he hauled Cal upright. 

“Ta...Tabbers?!” The man he'd saved from an explosion seven years ago on Bracca looked so much older, his face lined and fierce and wonderfully, beautifully familiar.

“Yeah, I know. Still alive kid. Which is more than you'll be if you don't get the kriff out of here.” The older man growled, shoving him hard towards the bar, where Beedee squeaked and leapt onto his back, chittering in his ear. 

“I...you...”

“Yeah, yeah, for kark's sake, run! We're even now, got it?” Tabbers shouted across the chaos, and he spared the stricken young Jedi a brief grin, his grizzled old face with its dark eyes and hard lines lighting up with a flash of fondness before he turned to add to the barrage of fire that was holding the Imperial soldiers, and Vader, at bay for a precious few seconds. Soldiers on both sides were falling fast, the militia rallying to defend their home from what was presumably being seen as an invasion. Cal spared half a thought for the small war he may well have just inadvertently started by setting foot on Nar Shaddaa, before Beedee screamed in his ear again. He took off, fleeing through the back of the bar, blood still pounding in his ears as he burst through the rusting iron outer door and into the dimly lit street. More militia were arriving, shouting and brandishing weapons, but Cal pushed past them, running faster than he'd ever run in his life, every breath sharp in his aching chest, his mind still in tatters from those awful echoes.

He ran until he collapsed, falling against a wall and sliding down it, struggling to draw breath. Beedee whined worriedly, nudging at his legs and letting out a quiet coo, offering up a stim canister. Cal snatched at it, his vision blurry as he stabbed it into his shoulder. The sweet, chemical relief of the bacta substitute gave him energy he dearly needed. “Thanks, buddy.” He sighed, dropping the empty needle and burying his face in his knees, the beginning of a throbbing headache building behind his eyes.

Beedee whistled again quietly.

“I know, I know. We need to go. Just...I just need a minute...”

Cal shivered against the filthy wall, sitting in a puddle of Force only knew what and reeling from the fight and the revelation that Darth Vader had been a Jedi, once upon a time. All of that fear and hatred and loathing and pain had been born in the ranks of the family Cal had once been part of back on Coruscant. He felt bile rising in his throat as the memory of Vader's voice coaxing him to surrender to his fear and anger rose to the surface of his chaotic thoughts again. He was wrong, Cal thought viciously, pushing at his skull to try and relieve the pressure. He was wrong, not all Jedi were destined to fall. Cere was proof, right? She had come back from the darkness, Trilla too. And Cal...Cal would never fall. He'd die before he succumbed to that kind of evil.

Beedee cuddled into his side, nugding his head against Cal's hip and whistling softly. It broke him out of the spiral he'd been tumbling into, and he drew in a long breath, lifting his head and patting his friend with a weak smile.

“Okay, Beedee. Okay. I'm alright. Let's...let's get out of here.” He pushed himself painfully to his feet, looking behind him. He could just about hear the blaster fire still, and he flexed his fingers, touching the hilt of his lightsaber to remind himself it was still there. Beedee hopped up onto his back, and after a final moment of praying to the Force that Tabbers would be okay, he took off once again into the darkness of Nar Shaddaa's gloomy streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I really wanted to do a Star Wars bar fight.
> 
> Okay, I know this one had more whump than badass, but honestly, just Cal being able to fight Vader at all is pretty hecking skilled as far as I'm concerned. It's been fun trying to balance writing the actual fight scenes against the knowledge that Vader does actually outclass Cal completely, and trying to weigh the fights realistically while not getting Cal beheaded is kind of hard :P
> 
> I've wanted to play with the idea that Cal accidentally psychometry's the truth about who Vader was by touching him for a while, and I will probably use this as a base for a longer fic at some point!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed reading Cal's second tangle with Vader as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Musical cues for this one included the Tron Legacy soundtrack for the bar fight scene, and a whole lot of atmospheric Star Wars background music.


End file.
